


Skips and Stones

by Nehasy



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Child Soldiers, Drabble, M/M, Mention of abuse, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehasy/pseuds/Nehasy
Summary: Miguel teaches Dilandau how to take a few moments to just relax.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From an OTP prompt. I bring you a sweet little drabble of my favourite little psycho actually acting halfway normal.
> 
> This is pre-series with Dilandau/Miguel sweetness to show that the captain isn’t always a slap happy little a-hole. This goes with my Dragon in the Ashes series. Nothing graphic to worry about, just a little kissing. Some skipping stones were unfortunately harmed in the making of this drabble... they had it coming.
> 
> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters.

                They stood on the icy shore looking out across the frozen horizon.  In the distance, a large iceberg drifted lazily by.  It was the size of a small island and covered with jagged peaks twisted by wind into oddly beautiful blades, making it look like something possibly from the Mystic Moon.  They’d flown around it earlier this afternoon in an impromptu game of tag with one of the local squads, getting a feel for the strangely shifting winds of the area as well as trying to accustom their eyes to the beautifully hypnotic landscape of ice and snow.  Even with his newfound familiarity with it, he still saw it as something magical in this frigid wasteland.

                Miguel took a deep breath and then blew into the air, grinning slightly at the fluffy white puffs coming from his lips, doing his best to try to form rings with it.  The fog of his breath didn’t seem overly inclined towards helping him towards this goal but he was determined to manage at least one.

                It was several long moments before Dilandau glanced over at him curiously, finally registering his friend’s strange breathing.

                “What exactly are you doing?”  The silver haired captain asked in a voice which sounded honestly curious rather than carrying the casual note of warning that all of the Dragonslayers had long ago learned to notice instantly.

Miguel felt a slight pain deep in his chest as the vast gulf between them suddenly seemed horribly apparent.  It was the little things that always got him, how such simple pleasures that he and the others took for granted as normal seemed to elicit guarded confusion from their captain.  It was like he’d never actually been a child… or had a chance to act like one.

“Smoke rings.”  He explained pointing towards the frosty air rising up from his lips.  “I heard that Lieutenant Pierce can do them and I wanted to see if I could.”  The captain frowned slightly at this information and Miguel could easily picture him trying to understand the strategic value of the action and why anyone would bother with something so frivolous.  “It’s silly I know.”  The brunette admitted somewhat sheepishly before his superior could get annoyed with him.  “But it’s so relaxing here looking out over the water.”

“I don’t like the iceberg being so close to shore.”  Dilandau murmured softly as if talking to himself, seemingly deciding that it was best not to inquire any further about the smoke rings.  “It’s large enough for an enemy to use as cover and approach the camp.  There’s enough crevasses in it to hide several guimelef.”

Miguel fought to keep a sigh from making its way past his lips, knowing that when they got back to camp, the captain would likely be filing a proposal to destroy the lovely floating ice fortress.  Worse, the base commander was both in awe and absolutely petrified of the silver haired captain.  She’d do everything in her power to ensure that his will was carried out.  A happy Dilandau was a less homicidal Dilandau.  That seemed to be the mantra that followed the Dragonslayers on every assignment wherever they went.

“We don’t have any enemies to the north of us.”  Miguel advised gently, aware that this could easily be taken as a challenge if the captain was in one of his moods.  “Sure, Daedalus could possibly bring their navy around and attack, but it would be much more sensible for their army to just cross at the Lagnese Channel once the ice bridge forms in a month or so.”  It didn’t matter that they weren’t currently at war with Daedalus, that sort of detail didn’t matter to his superior.  According to Dilandau, everyone was an enemy until they were crushed beneath your boot heel.  The Dragonslayers of course did their best to adopt this belief, but seeing enemies everywhere was wearying, especially on such a lovely evening.

As if reading his thoughts, a light snow began to drift down from the heavens.  Fat fluffy flakes fell all around them, drifting on the barely noticeable breeze and eventually joining their brethren on the ground, adding to the already impressive drifts which sheltered the camp from sight.

Miguel watched as several white flakes landed on Dilandau’s jacket, creating a fascinating contrast between the slick black leather and their intricate fractal patterns.  They made the uniform seem even darker somehow against their brightness.  Those which landed in his silver hair seemed to almost become a part of him, vanishing against his exotic colouration. 

Dilandau might as well have been carved from ice himself.  His silver hair and pale snowy alabaster skin seemed utterly at home in this land of stark whiteness.  The other teenager didn’t even seem to notice the cold despite the fact that he was only wearing a simple overcoat on top of his usual black uniform.  The heavy crimson spiked shoulder pads had been removed to make room for the second layer, but beyond that he seemed perfectly comfortable.  Miguel on the other hand was securely bundled in no less than three layers, one of them being a rather fantastic thermal weave bodysuit which had been assigned to him upon arrival.  It was woven from the hair of some sort of local animal he had yet to see but was thoroughly convinced that whatever it was, it should be venerated as some sort of god.  It kept him warm and dry, but didn’t cause him to overheat when he wore them in the base.  It was worth his weight in gold and the rest of the team agreed whole heartedly.  Poor Guimel was so cold; he’d been forced to wear so many thick layers that they couldn’t even see his face.  Dilandau had chewed him out rather thoroughly over his apparent weakness, stating that if he could barely move, he certainly couldn’t effectively pilot his Alseides.  He’d even threatened to strike the fluffy haired slayer from the flight roster if he didn’t learn to tough out the cold by the end of the week.

A slight gust of wind blew across the water, making their hair dance slightly and Miguel shivered in pleasure at the icy chill.  His family was from Dormandu, a village in northern Zaibach.  At least he’d considered it northern Ziabach before this mission.  It snowed ten months of the year back home and he was used to frigid temperatures.  While this was extreme even for him, he still enjoyed the way it made his skin tingle and his blood pump a little more strongly through his veins.  He always felt so much more alert in the cold and always loathed the hot dry summers of southern Zaibach.

To his amusement, he finally saw a hint of colour on his captain’s cheeks and the tips of his ears, proving that contrary to many rumours, Dilandau was actually made of flesh and blood.  People were beginning to believe that the famed Dragonslayer captain was some sort of ice demon.  There was even a rather romantic story about him being such a beast, cast out from his people because of his love of a fire demon.  Rumour had it that said demon was always summoned to his side during battle, killing at its lover’s whim.

It was a pretty story, one which the captain thankfully ignored, granting it little more than a bored sneer.  Miguel on the other hand had always found it amusing.  He loved hearing stories about his captain, especially the more exotic ones and always smiled secretly to himself at the knowledge that Dilandau’s secret lover was no fire demon.

Bending down, he picked up a round flat stone from the shore, having to pry at it a little to break it free from its frozen bed.  Again, curious crimson eyes watched his movements, the mind behind them struggling to understand exactly what he was up to.  Flashing the pale youth a wide grin, Miguel held the stone up for a moment, flipping it around his fingers like some cheap street magician so that Dilandau could see its size and shape for himself.  A silver eyebrow rose in silent question, but rather than answering, Miguel turned to face the water once more and pulled his hand back.

With smooth sure motions, he swung his arm and flicked his wrist, sending the stone skipping across the ice several times before it hit the open water.  There were three soft plops along with accompanying ripples before the stone sank beneath the inky surface.

“Not bad.”  Miguel stated in a soft voice, pleased with getting the three skips and he glanced over, instinctively seeking the approval of his superior.  Those smoldering eyes were studying the ripples which continued to spread across the still water, studying angles, velocity and water resistance.

“What’s your record?”  Dilandau asked, an edge of a smile pulling at his lips.  A surge of pride swept through the darker dragonslayer at the question.  Normally the captain would be full of questions about why he’d done that, what use it could possibly be and if there wasn’t something more constructive he could be doing with his time.  The whole team had been working in tandem with each other to try to find ways to get their beloved captain to relax, blow off steam and just act like a flesh and blood human being.  So far, they’d learned that he had an affinity for plants, though the art of gardening itself seemed to utterly elude him and he also seemed to enjoy playing with chemistry.  That last one had been a rather short lived exploration when he’d set Lord Folken’s lab on fire three times in one day… the last time hadn’t looked accidental.  He was now banned from all of the lab stations on the Vione and the Dragonslayers all received dark looks from the Strategos for weeks afterwards for encouraging him.

“So far I’ve managed five skips on a pond.  The ice is sort of new for me though.  Did you want to try?”  Even as he offered, the captain was already crouching down and searching amongst the rocks for a suitable stone.  When he found one, he pried it loose and studied it for a long moment, seeking out any imperfections that might ruin his throw.  Finally, after deeming it worthy, he looked out at the water and slowly pulled his hand back, mimicking Miguel’s stance perfectly.

When he flicked the stone, his movements were the perfect picture of grace and had the Dragonslayer not known any better, he’d have thought that the captain had been skipping stones all of his life.

The stone hit the ice, but the angle was wrong and it simply skidded away at high speed before plopping into the water.  Miguel half expected the pale captain to rage at his failure, but instead, those crimson eyes narrowed minutely as Dilandau studied what he’d done wrong before bending down to pick up a second stone.  Miguel figured that he likely hadn’t had enough spin to it, but he didn’t dare voice his opinion without being asked.  The captain had likely already come to that conclusion and would be annoyed if it was brought up.

Rather than risk his wrath, Miguel hunted for his own stone to throw, pausing to watch Dilandau’s second throw.  It was much more successful and the stone slid across the ice before hitting the water, skipping rather magnificently once then half-heartedly skipping a second time before sinking away. 

He wanted to congratulate the other boy but knew that Dilandau wouldn’t want to hear praise until he’d done something he considered to be worthy of it.  While proud and arrogant almost to a fault, the silver haired youth loathed false flattery and always encouraged brutal honesty within the ranks of his men.  It was one of a thousand things that Miguel openly admired about him.

Letting loose his own second stone, Miguel managed a good three skips once again, but seemed unable to manage to get higher.  Huffing slightly but accepting the silent challenge, he gathered up several stones, deciding to save on time.  Next to him, Dilandau did the same.

For nearly half an hour, the two teenagers skipped stones across the frozen beach, each throw Dilandau took was better than the one before as he made minute corrections to his throws, never satisfied unless clear progress was made.  Determined to keep up, Miguel pushed himself as well, earning himself a glance of approval from the captain.

They both achieved their fourth skip almost at the same time and flashed identical grins at each other, quickly followed by a silent challenge.  Miguel couldn’t resist and his heart soared as he cast his throws, watching the stones dance across the surface of the water alongside those of Dilandau.  They were both achieving four skips consistently now but Dilandau seemed to be pulling ahead.  His arches were cleaner on each skip and he was close to achieving a sort of fifth skip, though he refused to count it until it properly cleared the water’s surface.

Around them, the snow was falling more thickly and the drifting iceberg was nearly obscured by a wall of white.  In the distance, Miguel heard a bell ringing back at camp, warning of an approaching storm.  It was a twenty minute walk across the open icefields to get back to base and if they didn’t leave soon, they’d be caught out in a blizzard.  While he had no doubt that Dilandau would be more than willing to brave that risk in order to achieve whatever goal he’d set in his head, Miguel wasn’t so sure that it was a great idea to push their luck.

“Last handful.”  Dilandau stated, glancing over as his slayer, the challenge still burning in his eyes though at least common sense had decided to not push his legendary invincibility too far.  Miguel nodded in agreement and quickly gathered his stones.  He couldn’t help but resent the timing of the blizzard.  This was the most relaxed he’d seen his captain outside of the bedroom and he was loathe to see him return to the bristling ball of barely contained violence he seemed to become at any other given minute of the day.

“If I beat you, what do I win?”  The brunette asked cheekily, feeling that the captain was in a good enough mood now to push his luck with a little cheekiness.  Rather than receive a dark glare or a slap for his impertinence, Dilandau instead smirked and raised an eyebrow elegantly.

“Oh you think you’ll win do you?”

“Always plan to win any challenge you enter or don’t bother at all.”  He stated, paraphrasing the silver haired captain, earning himself a soft chuckle of approval.

“If I win, you polish my armour for a week.”  Dilandau stated.   “And sweet talk that woman in the commissary to give you a bottle of wine.”  There was no need to ask which one he meant.  It was a huge joke amongst their team that this one middle aged woman old enough to be Miguel’s mother had taken quite the shine to him.  It always made him more than a little uncomfortable dealing with her, but so far, she hadn’t done anything worse than bat her overly long lashes at him and make sure the top few buttons of her uniform were unfastened.  It was embarrassing but not threatening, hence why she earned the captains amusement rather than be sent to the infirmary with multiple stab wounds.  His protectiveness over his team was legendary in the Copper Army.

Not one to ever back down from a bet, Miguel nodded his head and then grinned slyly at his captain as he pretended to examine his stones for imperfections.

“And if I win…”  He savoured the pause, noting how Dilandau listened intently, interested in what he might come up with.  “If I win, you serve me breakfast in bed.”  Indignation flashed behind those crimson eyes but soft lips pulled back in a smile as the captain chuckled in amusement over the brash bet.  He’d always admired boldness and decided to go along with it rather than slap the dragonslayer down for his presumptions.

“Alright, but I get to choose the bed.”  He stated, enjoying how Miguel, who had just been about to let his first rock fly, stumbled, sending his rock skittering uselessly across the ice.  “Oops.”  The captain failed hideously at looking innocent, it was rather endearing in its own way.  It was so rare for Dilandau to display any sort of humour that Miguel didn’t have the heart to be angry at him over that rather underhanded stunt.

Looking out at the darkening sky, Miguel took careful aim once again, determined to not disappoint his captain with his final throws, especially with so much on the line considering Dilandau’s implied offer.  There was no way he was losing.  He’d never be able to live with himself. 

One after another, the stones skipped across the ice and water to be swallowed by the encroaching white wall of snow.  It was hard to focus with their sight because of all of the falling flakes, but the plops of the skips were unmistakable in the silence of the beach.  Dilandau threw at the same time as he did, choosing not to push their luck too far with the encroaching storm and both teenagers counted the skips loudly, taunting each other playfully.

“Plop, plop plop, plop”

“Plop plop plop, plop”

“Plop plop plop plop plop”  Miguel froze, his arm still extended and his eyes widened in delight as he heard the fifth skip.

“I did it!  Did you hear that?”  He grinned widely, elated over his victory.  The grin was mirrored by Dilandau who nodded his head, eyes glittering with delight whereas so many other leaders would be upset over being beaten.  Of course, he still had another stone to throw and he held it up, wiggling it between his fingers tauntingly.

“So, is it wine for me?  Or a mind blowing breakfast for you?”  The captain pulled his arm back, taking careful aim before launching the stone.  Both of them counted the skips under their breath.

“Plop plop, plop plop, plip.”  The last skip sounded rather half-hearted and Miguel knew before Dilandau even spoke that he’d won his first victory ever against the seemingly infallible captain.

“That last skip didn’t count.  It didn’t sound like it got air.”  The silver haired youth grumbled, glaring at the water as if it had offended him personally.  Still, Miguel noted that he didn’t look overly upset over this victory.  Instead, those intense crimson eyes slid up and down his body covertly and there was a somewhat pleased smile playing about Dilandau’s lips.

Unable to help himself, Miguel stepped over to the captain and gently brushed his gloved fingers across Dilandau’s hand.  Strong fingers closed around his as the gesture was returned and he found himself leaning over and gently kissed his captains temple.  Silken hair and chilly snow brushed his cheek, making him shiver slightly and he pulled back after a moment to see Dilandau staring at him with a surprised look on his face. 

They’d been intimate for two months now, Miguel often finding himself in the captain’s quarters for “private briefings” even though the entire team knew damn well what they were doing.  It was impossible to hide love bites and scratches down his back when one showered with six other guys.  They all took it in stride, though he knew that a few of them were more than a little jealous over his luck with the captain’s affections.

Their lovemaking had always been rough and wild affairs, Dilandau approached sex the same way he did everything else, with no restraint whatsoever and the passion of a thousand burning suns.  It often left the dragonslayer feeling boneless, exhausted and utterly unable to move for half an hour afterwards.  This was really the first tender show of affection he’d been able to give the captain and he was deeply delighted to see that it had been met with approval.  More importantly, the captain looked strangely intrigued by the gentle show of affection and curiosity burned in the depths of his eyes as he leaned forward slightly.

Taking this as a good sign, Miguel gently kissed him again, this time it was a soft brush against his lips and he thrilled at feeling the captains breath shiver in pleasure.

“We… we should head back now.”  Dilandau murmured softly, his cheeks flushing a rather fetching pink which had nothing to do with the cold.  Miguel considered it to be a great personal victory to make someone as worldly as his captain blush like a virgin.  He couldn’t wait to see what else he could do to him tonight.

The second warning bell sounded from basecamp and both Dragonslayers knew that if they didn’t get back soon, the rest of the team would come out looking for them.

“Race you back?”  Although it would have been far more romantic to walk and enjoy the falling snow, the idea of their team finding them strolling hand in hand in a blizzard wouldn’t go down overly well.  Miguel knew that he’d be dealt unending lectures from Gatti for being so foolish, not to mention the other glares he’d get for making the rest of the team leave the warm bunkers.

“You’re on.”  Dilandau grinned, sprinting ahead on his long legs, easily taking the lead.  Miguel didn’t mind losing when it offered such a lovely view.  Besides, the sooner they got back, the sooner he could make good on that bet.

**Author's Note:**

> Daaaw, so sweet. I do like the idea of the Dragonslayers being the ones to actually humanize Dilandau rather than just leaving him as the living weapon the Madoushi designed him to be. I can easily picture them all giving him little encouraging pushes towards hobbies, games or just screwing around in typical teenager fashion. It makes it so much more heartbreaking when he loses them.


End file.
